been actuated by precisely the same feelings, to his mother or
his sister. His all-absorbing love for Sibylla barred even the idea of
any other love to his mind, yet awhile.

"Lionel!" cried Lucy, turning her face full upon him in her earnestness,
"_how_ could she choose Frederick Massingbird, when she might have
chosen you?"

"Tastes differ," said Lionel, speaking lightly, a thing he rarely did
when with Lucy. "There's no accounting for them. Some time or other,
Lucy, you may be marrying an ugly fellow with a wooden leg and red
beard; and people will say, 'How could Lucy Tempest have chosen him?'"

Lucy coloured. "I do not like you to speak in that joking way, if you
please," she gravely said.

"Heigh ho, Lucy!" sighed he. "Sometimes I fancy a joke may cheat me out
of a minute's care. I wish I was well, and away from this place. In
London I shall have my hands full, and can rub off the rust of old
grievances with hard work."

"You will not like London better than Deerham."

"I shall like it ten thousand times better," impulsively answered
Lionel. "I have no longer a place in Deerham, Lucy. That is gone."

"You allude to Verner's Pride?"

"Everything's gone that I valued in Deerham," cried Lionel, with the
same impulse--"Verner's Pride amongst the rest. I would never stop here
to see the rule of Fred Massingbird. Better that John had lived to take
it, than that it should have come to him."

"Was John better than his brother?"

"He would have made a better master. He was, I believe, a better man.
Not but that John had his faults, as we all have."

"All!" echoed Lucy. "What are your faults?"

Lionel could not help laughing. She asked the question, as she did all
her questions, in the most genuine, earnest manner, really seeking the
information. "I think for some time back, Lucy, my chief fault has been
grumbling. I am sure you must find it so. Better days may be in store
for us both."

Lucy rose. "I think it must be time for me to go and make Lady Verner's
tea. Decima will not be home for it."

"Where is Decima this evening?"

"She is gone her round to the cottages. She does not find time for it in
the day, since you were ill. Is there anything I can do for you before I
go down?"

"Yes," he answered, taking her hand. "You can let me thank you for your
patience and kindness. You have borne with me bravely, Lucy. God bless
you, my dear child."

She neither went away, nor drew her hand away. She stood